Grandfather passed away many years ago and I continued to carry the last pocket knife with me for years. And then it happened I met a young boy about five years ago at the Kihekah Steh (Indian) dances held in Skiatook a town about twenty miles from our home. Blake was a wonder and we hit off a friendship instantly, he's Osage and had not been allowed to dance yet but wanted to be out in the arena so bad. Every time the drums would start and a new dance would begin he would excitedly ask if he could dance. After numerous declines from his Great Aunt and his Grandfather his excitement turned to tears and he sat with his feelings hurt. I tried cheering him up but nothing would bring him back to the excited little one that he was when we met. Then I remember the excitement of getting one of Grandfather's pocket knives, without reservation I reached into my pocket and brought out the last gift from my Grandfather. Blakes eyes opened wide and the smile on that boys face was the same as mine when I was his age on Christmas Day. He ask to see it and hold it and I said “here its yours for keeps!”. “Wow” he said as jumped from his seat and began showing everyone. The dances went long into the night but Blake was busy with his new gift.
Blake came to see me last weekend, he's twelve now but the first thing he did was show me the pocket knife I gave him so many years ago. It did me good to see it and instantly I knew things were right again and I had done what my Grandfather would have wanted me to do. I told Blake the story and I'm not sure at twelve he understood the value of that gift but I'm sure one day when he is a young man he will.
It's not the big things we do, it's not the amount of money we spend that makes the gift, it's the little things, with heart.
Grandfather now that I'm a Grandfather I see with my heart and I thank you!
Sharing the Journey